


The Games Begin

by thedevilchicken



Category: Gymnastics RPF
Genre: Attraction, Hand Jobs, Language Barrier, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: The night before the first day of competition, the games begin a little early.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [polkadot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadot/gifts).



It was already way past when he should've left - the rest of the team were probably still waiting outside to get back to their rooms and actually try to get some sleep, like that was ever going to happen - but there was just something about being there that Oleg didn't want to give up quite so quickly. It was probably dumb because it wasn't even like it was the real thing, it was just the practice gym, wow, the _practice gym_ , and it wasn't like he'd never been to championships before and hadn't been for years. It wasn't even like he'd never been to the Olympics before, either, but he guessed at least he didn't expect that fact to make much of a difference because, well, it was the Olympics. They were all hyped up for it. It wasn't like it came along every day, not even every year, just every four. In gymnastics, maybe more than a lot of other sports, that was a lifetime.

He was the last one left in there, or he would've been if Kohei of all people hadn't been sitting around bare-chested on the pommel horse with his phone in his hands, swinging his legs over the side just like an eight-year-old. There was some kind of really cheery, upbeat music wafting from the tinny-sounding speaker on the phone as Kohei pointed it over at the empty floor space, and Oleg wandered over, his sneakers in one hand and his kit bag slung over his opposite shoulder. Kohei kind of made him nervous - he figured it was all the success, because who didn't want to be just like Kohei Uchimura? or maybe it was how Kohei had kept glancing at him furtively all through practice like maybe it would psych him out - but even at the Olympics, even when they were rivals, there was no need to be impolite. He'd say goodnight, he thought, wish him good luck like he maybe even meant it and then make his way out to go hope the jitters let up enough for him to sleep. He doubted they would. Some things you got used to; the Olympics were not one of them.

Honestly, right then chains of emoji over Instagram seemed a whole lot easier for him to make sense of than most real languages he knew, and he knew for a fact that Kohei didn't speak anything like fluent Ukrainian. Kohei couldn't even pronounce Oleg's name the right way, not that Oleg was saying his own Japanese sounded close to native because pretty much all he'd got in his arsenal was _konnichiwa_ and _arigato_ and _watashi no sūtsukēsu desu ka?_ because you never knew when your luggage tags were going to go mysteriously missing on your flight to Tokyo and you'd be left wondering if a businessman had your underwear or if that case really was yours. But Kohei looked up and pointed over wordlessly to the empty floor where Nikita had been tumbling about eight minutes before and said _koratta_ , like it somehow explained something. 

"Pokémon?" Oleg replied, after a second of frowning and wondering why the word sounded even vaguely familiar, then Kohei grinned almost embarrassedly as he nodded and held out his phone for him to see. Oleg got closer, dropped his shoes and his bag on the floor and got a bit closer still, then he hopped up next to him on the end of the horse. Pokémon didn't make much sense to him - he guessed he wasn't really into cheerful phone games - but Kohei showed him a bit of it, mimed what to do on the screen with the pokéball and let him catch the purple rat though it looked like he had a whole lot of them already. It was weird but sort of fun in a way even if he still felt kinda jittery sitting there next to him, like they were too close together for comfort. and at least Kohei looked amused as he took back his phone and locked the screen and set it down next to his hip on the empty far end of the horse. Oleg was kind of amused himself, but mostly because it turned out he'd stayed behind for the atmosphere while Kohei had stayed for the Pokémon. 

Then Kohei dropped down to the floor and so Oleg dropped down to the floor and their timing was all kinds of wrong, _so_ wrong, because Oleg wound up trapped there between Kohei's body and the side of the horse and Kohei tilted his head as he looked at him closely, like he was trying to decide something based on really thin evidence, based more on how he felt in the moment, instead of stepping back and turning away. Oleg looked away for a second then right back at him, confused, filling up with a rush of adrenaline like just before a p-bars final or that moment of certainty he was going to wipe out that sometimes came mid-vault. Kohei's bare chest rose and fell with his breath and God, Oleg wanted to touch him, he wanted to feel his skin and muscles underneath it, wanted to push him down on the nearest mat and get more familiar with the defending champion than anyone could've advised. Kohei's eyes were on him like he knew. It was mortifying. The way he had to be blushing, there was no way he hadn't just been found out.

Then Kohei moved. He set his hands on the horse either side of him he and pinned him there, though it wasn't like he'd been trying to walk away, and Oleg swallowed hard but he didn't move. Oleg didn't move when Kohei bit his bottom lip and leaned in, either. Oleg didn't move when Kohei leaned in and kissed him, either, right on the mouth, and it turned out Kohei mostly took the lack of movement - like a knee to the groin or a fist to the jaw - as agreement. Honestly, Oleg wasn't sure it wasn't; he'd been given plenty of time to escape, after all, and he hadn't even thought of taking it. It was interesting to note, but he wasn't sure he had a clue what it was that was going on.

What Oleg was sure of, though, without a second's doubt, was that it was stupid. It was stupid because anyone could've walked back in. It was stupid because people were waiting for them outside and could've come back in to look for them. It was stupid because they were rivals, he guessed, though most of the time he wasn't sure rivalry meant the same thing in his sport that it meant to people in others and he was mostly pretty thankful for that. It was stupid because he wasn't even sure what they were doing until Kohei's hand had found its way down the front of his shorts and oh God, oh _God_ , he was already hard when Kohei's fingers closed around him. When the hell had that happened? _Why_?

That final question, he realised, made absolutely zero sense: he knew why and he had done for a while by then, since one night he'd gone to bed late after an individual all-around and when he'd touched himself under the sheets like it might help him wind down from pumped up, what he'd had in his head for the very first time was King Kohei and the way he moved, his lines, his calm composure. What he'd had in his head was stripping Kohei naked and fooling around on a really well-sprung floor. What he'd had in his head was sucking Kohei's cock as they balanced on the p-bars. What he'd had in mind was lubing Kohei's arse with his fingers and fucking him bent down over the vault. He'd been thinking about it for months after that. He'd been thinking about Kohei for months.

It turned out the jitters he felt around Kohei weren't all stars in his eyes; some of it, not quite all of it but a big part of it, was just old-fashioned attraction. And, at that moment, he was seeing the exact same look right there on Kohei's face. It was a surprise. It was a _good_ surprise. He'd've liked to have seen more of it, too, but what they were doing really couldn't last for long, not with the way Kohei kissed him again. Not with the way Kohei touched him.

Kohei pushed down Oleg's shorts over his hips and so Oleg did the exact same thing with Kohei's and so Kohei caught the two of their cocks in his hand together, side by side. He squeezed, rubbed, made himself gasp and Oleg's head reel as much with wondering what on earth he was doing as with the feel of it or, at least, he told himself that was true. But it felt good, it really did, even with the fact they could've been caught at any second, even with the fact the next day was the first day of competition and that competition really meant something, probably to both of them. And really, he should've expected it: Kohei was even good at that, too, with Oleg's hands in his hair and Kohei's cock rubbing at his. He was good - so much so that Oleg was happy he was leaning back against the pommel horse for support because he was pretty sure there were no good wayd to explain a sex-related injury the night before the competition started. Bad ways, sure, but no good ones.

Kohei came with a gasp and a splash of heat over Oleg's taut stomach; Oleg shuddered and came with a groan all over Kohei's hand. God, he thought, it was even better than the fantasy, even after, with their foreheads resting down together just for a minute, just for thirty seconds because that was really all they had. It was good, just brief, but maybe enough to help him sleep at least. Then Kohei grabbed a towel and he wiped them both down with a grin that said pretty much just _sorry, not sorry_ without actually saying a single, solitary word. He shrugged and Oleg just smiled right back as he gathered his stuff and Kohei put on his shirt gathered his and they walked away together, quiet except for the sound of their feet on the floor. But they stole glances all the way out to the door, not quite hiding smiles. Maybe they could barely say hello, but they had a kind of dialogue there anyway. It didn't even need emoji.

And as they left, as they went their separate ways and rejoined their teams, Oleg couldn't help but think that the competition had already begun. He couldn't say he didn't like the direction it was going. He was in it to win.


End file.
